I stayed up most the night writing and I’m a bit wrecked, but only in the best possible way. I’m sure you know how that goes. You start writing and you begin to push aside your defenses, and the longer you write the more layers you unpeel until suddenly all of your defenses are gone… Read More Writing and mumbling, with Adrienne Rich and Kristy Bowen
So there I was in the bathroom doing my thing, when I looked up and saw a spider, delicate and black, climbing up the wall. Later that day I saw another spider in the kitchen, and yet another in my writing room. A sign, perhaps, for in Native American myths, spiders are weavers of dreams… Read More National Poetry Month: Two spider poems
So there I was, out in the yard with Seriously and trying, unsuccessfully, to keep her from rolling in the dead, stinky thing over by the trees, when the neighbor came out to feed their chickens. We live at the end of a cul-de-sac, on a slender side street that borders a park and bike… Read More National Poetry Month and Ales Steger’s “Egg”
Maybe it’s because I recently had an essay published about my sister (who died of complications of an eating disorder), or maybe because I spoke to my younger sister yesterday, or maybe because I’m worried about my oldest sister, but I can’t get Adrienne Rich’s Women poem out of my head, especially the last line:… Read More Adrienne Rich, and blueberry vegan muffins
Today my favorite moose showed up in the yard for a visit. It was nice. Moose always make me happy (except when they charge me on the trails). There is something endearing and comical about their long, thin faces, their knobby knees, their lumbering gaits. (Or, homely as a house, as Bishop writes in her… Read More My moose, and Elizabeth Bishop’s The Moose poem
In honor of National Poetry Month I’ve decided to highlight some of my favorite poems and poets. First up, of course, is Anne Sexton (who else could possibly be first?). I came across Sexton in college and it was love at first word. I loved the images that flashed through my mind as I read… Read More Anne Sexton Rosemary Bread, and Her Kind
